


Sorting And Keeping

by afteriwake



Series: A Past Love [11]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:19:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s sorting through her things, figuring out what she wants to take with her, and finds that some old things are definitely worth keeping around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorting And Keeping

He was ready at nine the next morning. She had to admit she was still a little hesitant at having him in her home, helping her go through her things. After she had left his home yesterday she went and bought boxes of all sorts of sizes and plenty of bubble wrap for the breakables and packing tape for everything. She stopped off and got the both of them coffee and picked up breakfast for her, and then they were at her home shortly afterwards.

“It’s kind of a mess,” she said as she opened the front door. “I started doing more packing last night.”

He stepped in behind her and she caught him taking a look around. He must not have looked too hard when he broke in. “What are your plans?” he asked.

“Well, I’m still figuring out what I want to take. John took all the good cookware so I’m going to be bringing that. And then I want my books from the living room, and some of the other things in there. And the paintings and photography.”

“I noticed it when I was here last time,” she said. “Who was the photographer?”

“Rory,” she said. “I can take decent pictures, but he was much better at it than I was. That’s one of mine, though,” she said, pointing to the wall next to the front door. It was a picture of the sky as seen from space, with an unknown planet in the top left corner. “That was in the Alpha Centuri quadrant.”

“It’s very impressive,” he said with a nod.

“If you want it, you can have it,” she said. “It wasn’t one of my favorites, but Rory insisted we put it up there.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking the picture down. “Where should I set it?”

“On the dining room table,” she said. “That’s where I’m putting the pictures I’m taking over.” She pointed and he went in that direction.

“Is this an original van Gough?” he asked from the dining room.

“Yes,” she called out, a smile on her face. “He snuck it on board the TARDIS when the Doctor and I weren’t paying attention, after we told him we didn’t want to deprive the world of his art. The Doctor gave it to me when I left the first time.” She made her way over there and began pointing. “That’s a Salvador Dali sketch, that’s a painting from Picasso and that’s a painting from Monet. The Doctor’s trying to get me an Escher. I was shocked they were all still here, to be honest. They’re worth a bloody fortune.”

“I never knew you appreciated art so much,” he said.

“I wanted to be an artist when I was a little girl,” she said with a smile. “By the time I met you I’d given up on that dream. I wanted to be famous for other reasons by then.”

“I remember. You wanted to be an actress,” he said with a smile.

“Yeah,” she said with one of her own. “Come on, let’s tackle the kitchen.”

They got to work in the kitchen, and Amelia pulled out all her cookware and evaluated it, boxing up the things she wanted to keep and letting Sherlock handle the things she was giving away. It took them about two hours, since the only thing other than her knives, pots, pans and assorted utensils that she was keeping was the crystal from her parents. She packed that up carefully and labeled the box. She proposed they take a break to get something to drink and he agreed. “You must really love to cook,” he said, drinking a glass of apple juice.

“Yeah. It’s my favorite thing to do nowadays,” she said. “I experiment a lot, so that’s something you’ll have to get used to. But I don’t make anything I won’t eat myself, and I don’t like really exotic foods. I was planning on making dinner tonight so I have all the ingredients for curry. I need to keep some of the cookware out.”

“What about the dishes?” he asked.

“I have Styrofoam plates and plastic utensils,” she said. “I was thinking I could send it back with you tonight and just unpack it later.”

“That sounds like a workable plan,” he said with a nod. “I wouldn’t know what to do with half the things you’re giving away.”

She chuckled. “Rory liked things that made cooking easier. He loved to cook. I was always more for baking, but I can hold my own in the kitchen.”

“A practical man. I can appreciate that,” he said. “What should we tackle next?”

“The living room,” she said. They finished their drinks and went into the living room. Sherlock looked at the books on the bookshelves. “See anything interesting?”

“There are a few medical books that look fascinating,” he said, running his finger along the spines.

“I have no use for them. You can have them,” she said. 

“Was he studying to become a doctor?” he asked, taking down a book.

“No, but the human body fascinated him. The psychology books are mine. I’m taking those with me.”

“I’m not too fond of psychology. Or psychologists.”

“Me either,” she said as she chuckled. “I went through four of them when I was a kid. None of them wanted to believe the Doctor was real.”

“How many of these books are yours?” he asked.

“All the history books, all the fiction and the space books,” she said. “I’ve read all of them at least once.”

“That is quite impressive,” he said.

“Let’s start boxing them up. I’ll give you a box for the books you want to take.”

“All right,” he said. She set up a box for him and he began going through the medical books. She went to the other bookshelf and started pulling out all the paperback books. They chatted about various things as they worked, and it took them three hours to go through all of them. “I think you’re starting to run out of boxes,” he said.

“I have more upstairs,” she said. “Most of what I’m keeping is up there anyway.”

“What about your furniture?” he asked.

“Donating it. Well, not the bookshelves. Those are coming with me. But the sofa and the coffee table and all that are getting donated to charity.”

“It’s a shame to let go of that sofa,” he said.

“It won’t fit,” she told him with a smile.

“Pity,” he said.

“I am taking the chair, though,” she said, pointing to a small comfortable looking chair that matched the sofa. “I love curling up on it to read.”

“It should fit in your bedroom,” he said.

“That’s what I was thinking.” She looked over at him. “Ready to tackle the bedroom?”

“If you are,” he replied.

She nodded, and they went up the stairs. She opened the first door on he left and he saw clothes in piles on the floor and on part of the small bed. “I’m taking my dresser and nightstand and vanity, and this bed since it’s brand new,” she said. “The vanity has a chair that matches, but I moved it into the other bedroom to give me more room.”

“It definitely looks as though you had the most say over decorating,” he said.

“Yeah. I tried not to make it too girly.” She pointed to the pile nearest to him. “Those are going to charity, and so is the pile on the bed. Everything I’m taking with me is in the closet.”

“I’ll start boxing up the charity clothes, then,” he replied. He started to work on that project as Amelia wrapped up the breakables in bubble wrap. It was perhaps an hour later when he looked up and saw Amelia looking at something closely. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, putting what she had been looking at in the box nearest her. “It was a letter from Rory, that’s all.”

“Ah,” he said. “Did you not remember you kept it?”

“Yeah, I’d completely forgotten,” she said. “It wasn’t anything super special, but it was nice.” She finished packing up her vanity and then moved to the dresser.

“You seemed to be very happy with him. Or at least that was the impression I got when I came in here looking for more information on you,” Sherlock said after a moment.

“I was,” she said. “I still miss him, sometimes terribly, but I’m moving on. I think a new place to live will help a lot. There’s just so many memories here that it’s hard to think.”

“Is that why you aren’t taking many of his things?”

“Partly,” she said. “I’m keeping important things, like his favorite jacket and the photographs he took and things he gave to me. But I don’t need everything else, and there are family members who would like things and a charity could use some of it. I can’t use it so why keep it?”

“You raise a very good point,” he said.

“I’ve been going through the stages of grief all wrong. One of my other friends said I shouldn’t sell the house and I certainly shouldn’t share a place with you.”

“But doing all this makes you comfortable, right?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then does her opinion really matter?”

“No, I guess not,” she said. “My old friends don’t really understand. To be honest, I don’t know why I’m friends with most of them anymore. My life is so different than theirs. We don’t really have common interests anymore, and they’re all so careful around me, like they think if they mention Rory I’m going to break into a million pieces. I miss my husband but I’m stronger than that, and they don’t even realize it.”

“They sound like poor choices in friends,” he observed.

“I’m just letting the friendships wither and die, really,” she said with a slight shrug. “New start means people who understand, and they don’t.”

“I never imagined you would fit in with my friends so easily,” he admitted. “But you do. It’s rather nice.”

“Did you ever think it would turn out like this when you were younger?”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about our past.”

“You know what I mean. Did you ever think you’d get another chance? I didn’t. I thought the closest I would ever get to you again was seeing your picture in the paper. I was still here when you faked your death. I knew you’d faked it, too.”

“How?” he asked.

“River,” she said with a smile. “She told me she did a thesis on you, after I knew she was my daughter. The Doctor was kind of puffed up one day, saying how brilliant he was, and River said something along the lines of ‘Sherlock Holmes was just as smart as you and he faked his death too and was much more effective at it’ and that was how I found out.”

He smiled slightly. “The idea of your daughter using me as a thesis subject is rather amusing.”

“I think she knows a lot more about you than I do,” she said. “She was doing the thesis in the 51st century. But she won’t tell me anything. I didn’t really ask, though.”

“Have you spoken to her recently?” he asked.

“Last week. She and the Doctor came and she got some things of her father’s because I wanted her to have things to remember him by. We talked, and she was the one who suggested I see about moving in with you. I think now she approves of you.”

“She did say she rather liked me when we were looking for you,” he said. “I don’t think she liked what she had to do all those years ago because it hurt you very much. She didn’t want to cause you pain.”

“I know. That’s why I can forgive her.” She smiled at him. “I’m glad to see you aren’t holding a grudge.”

“I understand why she did what she did,” he said. “I may not like it, but her reasoning was sound. Certain events had to take place and she was the only one in the equation who knew what those events were.”

“Yeah,” she said. Then she sighed. “I think her time with the Doctor is coming to an end. She’s going to be gone soon, too. She mentioned she kept asking to go to these things called the Singing Towers, and the Doctor just got this look on his face like he knew it would be bad if he took her.”

“She’ll die soon,’ he said quietly.

“Yeah. He’s putting it off, I think so she can have more time with me. But eventually he’ll take her there, and then we both lose her. I think losing her is going to be harder than losing Rory. I at least got to say good-bye to him. I don’t know when the last time I’ll get to see my daughter will be.”

He got up from where he was and went over to her. She hugged him after a moment and they stood there like that for some time. “You know he’ll tell you,” he said quietly. “Just make every good-bye count.”

“I know,” she said, not moving away from him. “What am I going to do when she’s gone, though?”

“You’re still young. That is the one good thing to come from all of the time travel mess. You’re only in your early twenties. You can still have other children, you can get married again if you choose. Your life won’t stop. Just don’t forget your old family and you will be fine.”

She nodded, then pulled away from him. She had to move away, she realized, because she had this strong urge to kiss Sherlock right then. This was not the right time, nor the right place, and she knew it would be a mistake if she did it. She put more distance between them, and after a moment he went back to where he had been and continued boxing up the clothing. They spent another hour in the bedroom before she was finished going through the belongings she wanted to keep. “Are you hungry yet?” she asked, trying to keep that urge strongly tamped down.

“Yes,” he said.

“I’ll go start the curry then,” she said.

“Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, giving him a brilliant grin. “Just hungry.”

“All right,” he said. He left the room first and she followed, and then they went into the kitchen. As she began to cook and concentrated on the food she began to feel better, less inclined to do something monumentally stupid. She served up the food and they went into the living room to eat, sitting on the sofa and setting their plates on the coffee table. “If I make room…”

She laughed. “You like this couch a lot, don’t you?” she asked.

“I do,” he said.

“If you can make room you may have it,” she said, shaking her head. “You know, I could always move John’s old chair into my bedroom and keep the chair in this room with the couch. It’ll match.”

“That’s fine with me,” he said. “Both chairs look like they’d fit you.”

“Yeah.” She looked over at him. “Thank you for helping me today. You were right. I can’t do all this by myself.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “It appears as though we were able to follow one of the new rules well today, the one about bedrooms.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Sort of, at any rate.”

“Oh?” he said.

“It’s not important. Never mind,” she said, shaking her head.

“What do you mean?” he asked, looking at her intently.

She looked at him and sighed. “I really wanted to kiss you earlier,” she said quietly. “I think we may need to change the rule to not being in each other’s bedrooms period.”

“Are you still sure you want to move in with me?” he asked.

“Yes. I’ll just have to work harder to keep that urge under control.”

He was quiet. “Maybe you don’t have to,” he said after a moment. “Have you thought that maybe you are ready to move on?”

“It’s only been three months. That can’t possibly be enough time,” she said. “I should still be sad and not thinking about anyone like that.”

“Oh,” he replied. “In case it makes a difference, I would not have pushed you away or anything like that.”

She was quiet. She should still be mourning. She should still want her husband. And she did, but she also really wanted that second chance. She reached over hesitantly, and took his hand in hers. His grip was firm as she laced her fingers in between his. She had to admit to herself that she wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt. After a moment she leaned in closer. “If I kiss you now, you won’t push me away? You won’t judge me?”

“No,” he said quietly. He shifted slightly so he was closer to her, and she leaned in again and kissed him softly on the lips. She felt his free hand move up to the side of her face and his fingers snake around to the back of her head to entwine his fingers in her hair as he kissed her back. There was no rush, no sudden overwhelming need that came over the two of them. But it felt good, it felt marvelously good. She pulled away after a few minutes and looked at him, and caught the grin on his face and responded with one of her own. “That was nice,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” she said.

“May I kiss you this time?” he asked.

“Yes,” she breathed out, and he kissed her, a little more passionately this time. She felt things she hadn’t felt in a long time, things that were similar to when she kissed Rory and things that were different. During the kiss she felt the years melt away and it was almost as though it was that summer again, and they were young and in love with each other and the only thing that mattered was each other. They pulled apart when they needed to breathe, and she rested her forehead against his. “I forgot how good a kisser you were,” she said.

“I’m glad I didn’t make a hash out of it,” he said, and she giggled slightly. “So what does this mean for us now?”

“It means we go very very slow,” she said, pulling away more. “I’m not a hundred percent sure I’m ready to actually do the dating thing. So we feel things out. We take our time. And if I get cold feet we stop. Are you okay with all that?”

“Yes,” he said, moving his hand away from her face. She let go of his other hand and then settled into the sofa more, leaning against him. “I definitely want to keep this sofa now,” he said.

“You’re getting sentimental,” she said with a laugh.

“Only with you,” he replied. He shifted slight and put an arm around her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked.

“For giving me a second chance.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. And they stayed like that for a while, forgetting about their food until it was cold. But it didn’t matter, she thought to herself. She felt that hole in her start to fill up a little, and that was well worth it.


End file.
